


Tumblr Fic 61: Cocky

by LupusScintilla (inkandblade)



Series: Pornlets & Ficlets ♠ [61]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demisexuality, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions Possessiveness, Model Stiles Stilinski, Necks 'n Throatz, Neckz 'n' Throats, Not Beta Read, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Picture Fic, Pining, Pornlet that isn't really a pornlet, Possible Sapiosexuality, Prompt Fic, Standalone, Werewolf Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandblade/pseuds/LupusScintilla
Summary: Derek, and everyone else at the magazine, had wondered about it from the first time they’d shot Stiles.





	Tumblr Fic 61: Cocky

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Cocky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551670) by [Naty_White](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naty_White/pseuds/Naty_White)



Derek, and everyone else at the magazine, had wondered about it from the first time they’d shot Stiles. 

There was something in the way the man held himself, something about the tilt of his head and the slant of his smirk and the way he took up space in a room. Yet, he wasn’t smug or arrogant so that it stank up the place the way it did with the average model.

Stiles was anything but average, and not necessarily in the ‘cool’ way. He wasn’t the guy that got picked first for the team or had his choice of dates on Saturday night. He liked his hair too short and his jeans too loose and his t-shirts tight but covered in another layer. And yet, despite his flailing limbs and self-depreciating comments and the fact that he favored topics of conversation that were either hard to follow or simply bizarre, Stiles held himself with a conviction that seemingly far outweighed his social capital. He was a bundle of contradictions all wrapped up in a very attractive, very loquacious package. 

He was, of course, appealing to a lot of wolves: long limbs and fingers and neck, pale complexion and eyes that looked near-shifted and dots of color across his skin. 

Stiles had soon put paid to the idea that he understood that and that it was therefore was where his confidence came from, however. His first cover-shoot had sold out in four days and with a shot of tequila for each of them in his belly he’d spilled to all and sundry that he had absolutely no idea why anyone would want to pay to look at him.

Derek had jerked off to the memory of Stiles’ oblivious, tipsy statements:  _It’s probably only ‘cause I’m not naked, anyway. My lily white ass would scare your readers silly_. Derek never mentioned how wrong Stiles was while they were shooting. He didn’t want Stiles to consider him another one of his mindless fans. After all their conversations and the way Stiles smelled and the shape of his smile? Derek wanted more than that, even if it wasn’t likely. 

It had taken seven more editions, three of those also sold out covers, to get Stiles to agree to today: shirt negotiable, jeans and socks off but jocks on, strategically placed props a must, and only Derek and Isaac in the room while they were shooting. Peter hadn’t wanted to sign much of it — especially the reiteration of the no-full-frontal clause — into the new contract, but he understood that even an iota more of Stiles’ skin would boost circulation.

The first half of the shoot had been as per usual. Stiles had taken the outfit from Cora and approved of the high-cut but utilitarian jocks that would go under it. He’d bantered with Erica as she did his makeup, asked after Laura and the baby, and complimented Isaac’s new shirt. Then he’d somehow managed to turn shy in front of Derek, as always, looking up from under his lashes as he said hello, despite being a good two or more inches taller.

They’d started with him laid out on a sofa, bare toes wiggling, sleepy eyelashes fluttering. Derek had, hopefully, adjusted himself without anyone noticing. They’d moved on to standing shots and Stiles had slowly lowered his zipper as he chatted to Derek about the theoretical beauty of Utopian economics and.

Derek could see that Isaac was having difficulty holding his tongue as he moved the lights to one side, the angle making certain that Stiles’ white t-shirt wasn’t actually see through. Peter was going to cream himself over this. Right or wrong, both the human and wolf sides of society tended to favor certain traits in a man. Once these shots were circulated everyone and their neighbor would know just where Stiles’ inner confidence came from. 

Stiles’ cock was beyond big. It was huge. Even without skin shots this issue was going to sell out in a morning, a single day at most. 

Derek swallowed and clenched his fists and hoped that Stiles couldn’t see that his fangs had dropped. He should have tried to ask Stiles out before today; if he did it now, Stiles would think it was all about his physical endowments. “If you push the top elastic of the jocks under your balls it will look like you’re —” Stiles did. He looked at Derek and Derek tried not to smell the fact that Stiles was not only turned on but also… Hopeful? 

His cock was still growing.

Derek swallowed saliva again. “That’s…” Stiles licked his lips and Derek snapped a few more shots instead of growling. “That’s perfect.”

“Do you want me back on the sofa? I could lie on my front, maybe.” 

Derek wasn’t sure if he could cope with it, to be honest. He preferred to bottom with guys, but like most wolves an offer of thick flesh — butt cheek or thigh or breast or belly — stirred something in his hind brain. 

Neck — submission. Thick flesh — sex.  

“Yes.”

Stiles nodded and shuffled forward from the wall. He slipped his jeans off as he sat backwards onto the sofa and flailed a little as he flicked them onto the floor. There was a small crash and yelp in the half-dark off to the side of the room and Stiles grinned as Isaac mumbled his apologies and made for the door. 

Derek’s wolf relaxed at the idea that they were alone, at last, even if there was a camera in between them and everything Stiles was doing was just for show.

Stiles leaned over and lifted his legs and put himself sideways, tugging the shirt low as he moved. Derek changed the settings forward and back to the same place on the camera, not wanting to stare but needing to focus on something other than Stiles’ thighs as he rolled onto his front.

“Peter tried to talk me into having the other guy take these shots. I told him it couldn’t be anyone but you.”

Derek blinked and sucked in a full lung full of sweet, wanton air, and though gaze was drawn to the curve of Stiles’ ass and the stretch of his neck he looked at Stiles’ face instead.

“I’m glad you feel comfortable with me. I’d never ask you to do something you didn’t want to.”

Stiles smiled again, but it was softer than before. He squeeze-flexed one ass cheek and then the other and bent his knees and lifted his feet and pushed up on his elbows and tilted his head back and Derek hoped his hard-on wasn’t obvious as he took the shot.

“Your eyes are shifted.”

Derek blinked and looked down tried to reign it in, but Stiles smelled even more turned on and he couldn’t. He stuttered out, “I’m sorry.” It was more than mortifying. Derek had never lost control like this with a model before, but then he’d never been attracted to a model like this before. “Would you like to take a break?” He didn’t didn’t add  _so I can get my wolfself under control_ , though it would have been polite, perhaps, to explain.

“No.” The word was sharp and over too quickly, even if Stiles had taken several moments to respond. “I know you don’t usually go flashing them about though, so if you need time?”

Derek looked at Stiles again. The smile in his eyes was gone and the color that was normally in his cheeks had drained so he looked pallid under the makeup. He was pushing up and back into the sofa, pulling the t-shirt down hard enough that it would stretch out of shape. Derek did  _not_  look at what Stiles was trying to hide. He took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly and stepped around the camera despite it bringing him closer to the weight of Stiles’ discomfort in the air.

“You know we don’t ‘flash them about’ ‘cause they usually only mean one two things, yes?” Stiles nodded and Derek grabbed a towel from the bench just out of shot and handed it to Stiles to cover up with.

“I’ve seen your reds before.” Derek wouldn’t have heard it if not for his wolf ears. “In the second shoot we did. I was babbling about Tasmanian devils being real and their habitat needing conservation and you looked up at me over your camera and at first I thought you might just really hate marsupials,” his heartbeat was racing but barely keeping up with the speed of his words, “but then you smiled and I knew that wasn’t it. You showed them again when you shot me with Jackson last time. Then your eyes were aimed at him, and you growled but he moved away from my throat and your reds faded.”

Derek knew he’d growled at Jackson that day, but even though Jackson had flashed his blues, Derek hadn’t realized he’d shown his own reds or that the sound had been loud enough for a human to hear. It was a wonder his cousin hadn’t reported him for harassment. “I…”

Stiles reached a hand over the space between them, holding it an inch away from Derek’s until Derek lifted it and they touched. Stiles wrapped his fingers around and under, nesting them up into Derek’s palm and slowly swiping his thumb back and forth over the back of Derek’s wrist. “Jackson informed me after, in no uncertain terms, that despite him thinking you’re an asshole, you’re part of his family and that if I hurt you, he’ll rip out my throat with his teeth. Which is apparently more your thing than his, but he’d make an exception?”

Stiles’ skin was warm against Derek’s and his scent had changed to something more normal, less bitter, and Derek let himself laugh at Jackson attempting to threaten anyone like that. “I think you’re safe. He wouldn’t want to risk snapping a fang.”

Stiles looked up from their hands and blinked. He asked, “Wouldn’t it grow back?” then answered himself with, “Oh, but not fast enough for him to go a full moon without someone noticing. He is quite,” his eyes sped back and forth searching for the right word, “particular about the way he looks.”

“Most models are,” Derek said. “You, despite the fact that you’re gorgeous and take good care of yourself, are somewhat of an anomaly.” 

“Somewhat of …?” The scent of lust that hit Derek had his eyes flash and fangs drop and cock hardening again in seconds. “You don’t say much but I fucking love the way you talk. I would really, really like to kiss you, Mr Hale.”

Derek wet his lips, but paused. He was a cliche of a wolf, possessive and protective and very, very monogamous. There was nothing wrong with a quick fuck on a sofa in the studio, but that’s not what he wanted, it never was. He didn’t think that Stiles wanted it to be that either, but… 

The article that went with Stiles’ first shoot asked all the usual questions — favorite position, gay or bi, kink he’d like to try, weirdest place he’d ever had sex, etc etc — and Derek knew the answers to all of them by heart. Stiles liked to fuck face to face; he sat towards the gay end of bi, like Derek; he wanted to be knotted at least once in his life, even though he preferred to top with guys; and he couldn’t say that he’d ever had sex somewhere that wasn’t entirely predictable. None of that spoke to someone who liked to sleep around, but there was nothing in the magazine’s contract that said a model had to tell the truth in the interviews.

“Please?” Stiles shifted but held the towel tight across his lap with his free hand. “I wasn’t kidding when I told Peter that I  _couldn’t_  do this shoot with anyone but you. I knew he’d like what he saw if I got hard, but I also knew it would be almost impossible for me to get wood in front of somebody else. If you say no, you say no. I don’t want something you aren’t willing to give, but I’m far too into you to not finally put it out there.”

Derek finally let himself look from Stiles’ face to his lap and the fact that he was no longer erect. “That was for me?” 

“I’m very demi, man.” Stiles smiled and squeezed Derek’s hand. “I mean. I’m lucky, I reckon, to have been born in a time when people talk about this shit, yeah? I’ve known since just about the time I figured out what cocks were for. I can’t imagine what it would have been like before the internet. I would probably have thought my dick was broken otherwise.” He turned even further in the seat, pulling his inside foot up underneath his outer thigh, dislodging the towel but not apparently caring. “And yes, it was for you. It will be again if you’re interested.”

“I’m a pretty stereotypical wolf. I’m possessive and protective and I really, really don’t like sharing.” Which could be a terrible thing, but. “But, I don’t like all that alpha-knows-best shit, and I would never, ever want my other half to do something just because they thought it was what I wanted. My parents made sure we all learned early that everyone should say what they want and learn to take the nos with the yeses.” Derek breathed out and looked up and Stiles had leaned in closer. “And, yes, I’m interested.”

“That’s perfect.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this image](https://inkandblade.tumblr.com/post/174112354551/cockyfanfictioncockyweek) (on my NSFW tumblr), and part of the Fanfiction Cocky Week collection. 
> 
> So… That rather got away from me. It wasn’t very cocky at all, but that’s where it started and that’s where it stands.  
> This is Necks ‘n Throatz, but unrelated (opposite) to the [other piece](https://inkandblade.tumblr.com/post/173848914011/hed-overslept-it-was-hard-not-to-not-in-his) I wrote in that sandbox.
> 
>  
> 
> _Though I'm fine with people wanting to create most fanworks [art, podfic, fanmix, translations] of this story, I'd prefer that no direct "sequel" be written as I have my own planned (eventually). Thank you._


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